Baby's First Christmas
by Serenitychan13
Summary: Christmas has never exactly been Spencer Reid's holiday. His girlfriend, Lorraine, on the other hand, loves it. When he receives coal from Garcia in the form of a frosted sugar cookie, he finds himself seriously suffering from Grinch syndrome. Lorraine is a speech therapist, but can she fix a Grinch disorder as well? Rated for possible language and possible mature themes.
1. Spencer Scrooge

_**Disclaimer: Okay, really!? It's still not mine. None of it – just Lorraine and you can only use her if you ask me nicely. I know it's early for Christmas and I don't own that either! Also, I started this fic series before Prentiss left and before this mystery woman… but if you've read this far, you probably know that. Flames will be written in as unsubs and will be summarily dealt with… Morgan-style.**_

Ch. 1 – Spencer Scrooge

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful! But the fire is sooo delightful!" Garcia sang as she glided along the halls on red suede Jessica Simpson heels. "And since we've no place to go – let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! Hell-LO, my lovelies… and fearless leader… I brought Christmas cookies! I got there at opening this morning, so thank me profusely!"

She sailed merrily into the boardroom with the box bearing the legend 'Lavender Moon Cupcakery.' The entire team could hear her jingle-bell earrings, plus the one on her mini-Santa-hat headband, all the way down the hall. They sat up in their chairs and even Hotch had to smile a little. Morgan beamed at his pretty Mama and held out an expectant hand. JJ and Prentiss actually got up, removing the box from Garcia's hand. Rossi grumped good-naturedly, "What, no cannoli?" On the whole, the team brightened at the blonde's grand entry.

Spencer Reid, on the other hand, tried his best to scrunch his six-foot-three frame into his chair and shrink away unnoticed. He leaned over his notes, staring at them so hard that he wondered if he might burn a hole through them. Grinding his teeth, he tried hard to ignore the sounds of his teammates being happy. If he pretended not to notice them, maybe they would ignore him too. However, the inevitable feeling of eyes burning into the back of his head set on him.

"Spence, come have a cookie!" called JJ, waving to draw his eyes away from his notes. "These have real buttercream frosting on them!"

He ground his teeth hard enough to become audible and JJ reached over with her cookie-free hand and pinched him. Just to avoid everyone giving him a hard time, he did accept the cookie. The frosting design on it made him actively want to chuck the thing in the wastebasket and take the rest of the day off. On the white frosting background was a sort of irregular black shape. JJ pinched him again – he hadn't been aware of grinding his teeth that time. He pasted on one of his "on the list" smiles and turned to Garcia.

"You know, there are several legends around the world of assistants to Santa Claus," he announced to the room at large. "Krampus and Black Peter are the first to come to mind, their job being to punish naughty children and…"

Garcia stared at him over the top of her sparkly red-framed cat-eye glasses.

"Yes, it's a lump of coal," she deadpanned back at him. "It's called a joke, my lovely damaged boy wonder."

Spencer grumped and nibbled on the cookie. Okay, he had to admit, it was a pretty good cookie. He mumbled a thank-you to Garcia and slouched out of the room towards the coffee machine. Cookies and milk, cookies and over-creamed coffee… What was the difference? He poured himself a cup – it was lukewarm – and added as much French Vanilla creamer as he could. Dunking the cookie a few times, he ate with a grouchy look on his face. Two interns refilled their Tervis coffee cups and am-scrayed at his expression.

"Bah humbug…" he told his cookie, taking another bite.

The rest of the cookie disappeared in four bites. Lukewarm coffee didn't really do much to help Spencer's mood, but he swilled it anyway. It was caffeinated and, at this point, he just didn't give that much of a damn. Out of coffee, he started back to the board room. His head started to hurt at the sounds pouring out: the voices of Alvin and the Chipmunks and Morgan yelling in protest. Thankfully, Spencer stepped into the room just as Hotch took matters into his own hands and shut the speaker off himself. Garcia pouted briefly and skittered back to her technological lair.

They still had another three hours of case review to get through. Hotch had opened his collection of case folders and they tucked in for ten minutes' worth. Then, Spencer felt the familiar buzzing in his trouser pocket that announced a text message. He looked over at Morgan to make sure this didn't smack of a reboot of their practical joke war. Either it wasn't or Morgan had definitely improved his poker face one hundred percent. The genius decided to chance it, sliding his phone out of his pocket under the rim of the table.

JJ and Prentiss gave each other side-long looks and the both of them diligently pretended not to notice Spencer staring determinedly under the table. He quickly glanced at Hotch, who seemed to be explaining something to Rossi. Coast was clear, so he flipped the device open. Okay, no need to start flicking paper clips at Morgan just yet – the text message was from Lorraine.

"_Drop by my apartment when you get off!_" it read. He could hear her chipper voice as if she were sitting right beside him. A second message popped up over the first one, saying "_Movie night!_"

Spencer couldn't help grinning – he seemed pathologically incapable of not-smiling about Lorraine. Unaware how very loud the clicks on his phone's keypad were in the board room, he messaged her back. He told her "_I'll be there at 6_" and remained oblivious to the five sets of eyes on him. The text message folded itself up and the envelope flew away across the screen. He continued beaming uncontrollably at the device.

"Reid, I know you didn't get this in high school," Hotch's voice broke into his thoughts. "And I'm not a teacher, but even I know that no one looks down like that and smiles."

Morgan snorted with laughter, JJ and Prentiss both rolling their eyes. Rossi smiled fondly and checked the time on his own Blackberry. Damn technological compulsions, he complained internally. The team watched Spencer turn Santa-hat red and hastily shove his phone back in his pocket. Entertainment and distraction aside, Hotch snapped his folder and they went back to it. Only three hours minus thirteen minutes…

Hotch bid them all a good evening and returned to his office, presumably to work for another hour or two. JJ grabbed her purse and one last cookie, chatting with Prentiss about the most recent Christmas toy madness. Henry had decided he absolutely _had _to have the light saber. Prentiss advised her to start bolting household objects down now. Morgan wanted to get to Best Buy, causing the two women to tease him about his 'man cave.' Rossi mentioned something about finishing up Christmas shopping. When the team stared, openly wondering who he could possibly be shopping for, he merely shrugged.

"What? Just because I don't have kids!" he grumbled amiably, pulling on his coat and reaching for his Armani cashmere scarf. "It comes with the family – my brothers must have ten between them. And I have a niece who's been begging for Caroline for months… Don't look at me like that – I know what American Girl dolls are!"

Prentiss teasingly asked JJ if she would rather for shop for girls' toys and if perhaps she might surprise Will with a Christmas miracle of his own. JJ asked how often Prentiss would be available to babysit in retaliation. The brunette scrunched her nose, but smiled and answered "Alternate weekends and third Tuesdays, so I can give Sergio fair warning." The two of them laughed and armed themselves with coats, gloves, scarves, hats, and purses. They ran into Garcia, bundled up in a bright green pea coat, and the three took their leave.

"So, what was _Lorraine_ texting you about at work, Mr. 'I Don't Know How to Hide My Texting,'" Morgan ribbed his genius friend, deliberately drawing out the lady-friend's name to watch Reid turn pink. "What are you getting _her _for Christmas, by the way?"

Spencer yelped "Morgan!" and scrambled to grab his jacket and satchel, hoping to beat a hasty retreat. No such luck. Morgan just grabbed the last cookie and took a large bite. Rossi's ears perked up at Spencer's noise, but he decided to spare the younger man at least _some_ embarrassment. He called "Be safe!" to the three ladies and took a different elevator. Morgan waved after him and then turned his attention back to Reid, smiling annoyingly. The genius continued stuffing random things into his bag.

"It just so happens that she and I haven't discussed the holiday season at all," he told Morgan in clipped tones, wanting nothing more than to get away. "I'm not sure we're at the point in the relationship that gift-giving is expected."

Morgan rolled his eyes and finished his cookie, licking frosting off his fingers with relish before taking the leather bomber jacket off the back of his chair.

"Kid, I've got news for you – it's Christmas," he informed the child prodigy.

Reid cracked his neck noisily.

"I really hadn't noticed," he snipped back. "I thought we had an unsub nailing up elves and candy canes everywhere."

The older man shook his head.

"Point is, get her something," he ignored the attempt at sarcasm. "I guarantee she'll appreciate it and, like it or not, she probably has something for you."

Reid looked genuinely pained.

"Had it not occurred to you that I have never bought a gift for any woman who's not my mother or a co-worker?" he asked, trying for waspish again and failing miserably.

This time, Morgan looked a bit worried.

"Oh God, tell me I'm not having to give you the 'what to give girls for Christmas' talk," he groused, scrubbing at his face with one hand. "Anything but Victoria's Secret and I think you'll be fine."

The famed 'does not compute' look lit on the skinny man's face.

"But you got…" he started.

"That was a totally different story!" Morgan yelled before the boy genius could finish that. "Trust me, just get her something nice and everything will work out fine."

Spencer smirked, gave Morgan the 'whatever you say' look, checked to make sure he had everything, and left the office. Morgan grumped for a second before putting his bomber jacket on. Something had definitely happened with Reid and this girl. He hadn't seen the little punk so visibly happy in a long time.


	2. And Come to Holiday Inn

**Disclaimer: **_**In the interest of the spirit of the season, they finally gave it to me: Criminal Minds is now mine! You know what? April Fools. It isn't. It's still not mine and, barring a miracle, never will be. Lorraine and her animals are mine. You want to use? Ask nicely. The movies mentioned are real and they're not mine either – just the DVDs.**_

**Author's Note: **_**Yes, there is an extremely racially-insensitive scene in the movie Holiday Inn. I encourage you to watch it for the cultural significance. Ignoring that bad things happened doesn't make them go away. And the song really is tragically catchy. Don't flame me if you don't like the movie or the reference to it. It happens to be one of my favorite musicals.**_

Ch. 2 – And Come to Holiday Inn

Instead of reading on the Metro like usual, Spencer simply sat there and spaced out. He hadn't realized he was staring in the direction of that teenage girl until she flipped him off and shoved her headphones deeper into her ears. Adjusting his field of vision, he returned to his train of thought: what to get Lorraine. What he'd said was true, about never gift-shopping for women before. His mother and JJ would usually be happy with whatever. Prentiss could be counted on to like books. If it screamed _cute_ loud enough for Spencer to hear it, he could pretty much guess Garcia would like it. He hadn't been in close quarters with Lorraine long enough to-

"Hey, that's my girlfriend, asshole!" a man's angry voice addressed him.

Spencer startled and shook his head to clear it – a man wearing a Boston Red Sox jacket glared at him with his arm around a pretty brunette. The genius apologized and pulled out a book, shrinking behind it. Apparently the subject of today's train of thought caused him to stare blankly at attractive women. He blinked at the page in front of him, not really seeing the words. The Metro announcement system called out his usual stop. Absent-mindedly, he picked his way through the crowd, only to remember where he was actually going.

"Watch where you're going, stupid!" the same teenage girl he had inadvertently ogled snapped at him when he bumped into her. "Ugh…"

He apologized once again to the girl and found himself without a seat. So he shoved the book back in his bag and grabbed a hand-hold. The Metro took off again, causing his skinny frame to lurch unpleasantly. His practically-super-powered brain whizzed in overdrive as he chewed over shopping choices. Another bit of his mind reminded him that he had a good week until Christmas Day, so he had time to make an informed decision. He would have asked who decided to start all this hoopla, but he knew that already.

Once more, the Metro's announcement called for people to start boarding and unloading – they had arrived at the stop closest to Lorraine's apartment. Spencer brushed carefully past people and stepped off the train, looking around for the exit. He followed the crowd and heard many voices, mostly children's, yelling about something. As he got closer, he could tell what it was – it had started to snow ever so lightly. Everyone over the age of twelve either pulled faces or complained outright. Spencer didn't mind, pulling his jacket closer around his thin body. It actually didn't seem as cold when it was snowing.

* * *

The walk to Lorraine's apartment from the Metro station only took about twenty minutes. It had continued snowing, but not heavily enough for it to stick, he noted with a surprising touch of disappointment. Where had that come from? He dodged a jogger with a large dog that looked like a black Golden Retriever and continued up the way. The security fellow at the front of Lorraine's complex saw him from a ways off and waved him on in. When he got to the gate, he thanked the man and started back towards Lorraine's building.

He reached Lorraine's front door and wiped his shoes on the mat that still read "Wipe your paws." Shifting nervously for a moment as he always did, he reached out and pushed the doorbell. Immediately, sound exploded on the other side of the door. Hawkeye, barking uncontrollably, thundered to the front hallway to continue making as much noise as he possibly could. Spencer could hear Lorraine inside as well, shouting at the dog to "_cram it!_" She hollered to whoever was at the door that she'd be there in a sec. Then, a struggle ensued as she shoved the dog out of the way.

"Hey Spencer!" she chirped breathlessly, holding Hawkeye off with one foot as she opened the door for her boyfriend. "Come on in! He's just excited."

Still looking askance at the animal, Spencer stepped inside. Immediately, a wall of absolutely wonderful smell hit him in the face. He didn't have time to think about that, though, as he found himself with an armful of redhead. Lorraine stood up on her toes, caught his cheek in her palm, and kissed him. Smiling, she pulled back, blushing. She had left a smear of cookie dough on his cheek from her hand. Spencer reached up to wipe it off, but she caught his hand, leaned up, and kissed it away. He leaned down to kiss her back, but Hawkeye chose that moment to lean heavily into his knees.

"What is it with dogs?" he asked Lorraine, stumbling and regaining his balance. Looking sheepish, he told her, "The team calls it 'the Reid effect.' For some reason, children and animals don't like me very much."

Lorraine shook her head, that ever-present red braid flapping about behind her, and made a dismissive hand gesture.

"Aw, Hawkeye loves you!" she insisted, dropping on her knees and rumpling all the fluff and floppy skin round the dog's face. "Hawkeye loves everybody cos he's a lovey boy, yes he is!"

Normally, Spencer could not stand people who babbled at their pets, but in Lorraine, it was just sort of par for the course. The dog looked up at Spencer with a drippy grin, the fluffy tail wagging. Lorraine squealed at Hawkeye again and found herself rewarded with a slobbery kiss. This, she unashamedly wiped on her red and white striped dress's skirt. Spencer turned to face Everett, the large Maine Coon cat who had turned up at his ankles. He could handle that a lot better than the giant furry drool-monster.

"So, make yourself comfortable!" Lorraine told him for nowhere-near-the-first time, smiling at him gingerly making friends with the cat. "Soon as I finish up in here, we can start movies! I've got _Holiday Inn_, _White Christmas_, _Bells of St. Mary's_, and _It's A Wonderful Life_!"

Spencer had heard of most of these films, but could not recall ever having seen even one. He figured that to voice this information would cause an explosion of extremely high pitch from Lorraine, so he refrained for the moment. So in the meantime, he took her up on the offer of making himself comfortable. Shrugging out of his jacket, he hung that up on the Mary Poppins-esque hat stand in the front hallway. Hawkeye sniffed it, coating the right sleeve in sticky, foamy dog drool. The profiler wrinkled his nose and made a mental note to have that dry-cleaned ASAP. Everett hopped up into the spot he had just been about to take on the couch.

"Move!" he ordered, pointing at the floor as the cat looked at him – great child prodigy of the famed BAU – like he was some kind of idiot. "Go on, cat… Off!"

Lorraine scurried on into the kitchen, out of which still poured a wonderful smell, followed by the giant hairy one.

"Just pick him up!" she yelled as she dished the last dozen balls of raw cookie dough out of the bowl. "He's a big baby!"

The cat stared up at him, lamp-like gold eyes saying '_one step closer, bub, and you'll get your hand back in a Christmas box._' Determined not to let a 30-pound cat get the better of him, Spencer reached a hand out to move the animal. Predictably, he yelped and pulled it back as Everett flatly refused to budge even an inch from his cushion. Glaring at the angry, fuzzy lump, the great Dr. Reid fell back to regroup. Everett purred in satisfaction, the gold eyes falling half-closed like Brando in _The Godfather. _

"Cat, I have three Ph. Ds," the genius informed the animal, who gave him a look that said '_so what?_' "That is _my _seat and _you _are going to move."

The fuzzy gray creature stared up at him with those nearly-glowing eyes. For his part, Spencer had faced armed unsubs, but this cat had him baffled. He knew what sort of nasty things resided in and under cats' claws. Scratches led to infections, and those could go very badly, very quickly. At the same time, though… How could a genius profiler not be able to pick up and toss a cat off the couch? Bowing up and taking a deep breath, he reached for the animal.

There was an almost electric-sounding popping noise. A giant, fuzzy white paw shot out. Spencer swore and jerked his hand back, immediately sucking on the bleeding scratch across his knuckles. Giving the tall, thin human a look of utter contempt, the cat jumped down off the couch and stalked away. With his tail swishing irritably, he tucked himself under an end table. The gold eyes stared at Spencer with a look that said "Don't go to sleep… I will eat your soul." Feeling far less satisfied than he otherwise would have, the genius took a seat. He stared back at the cat.

"So, ready for a movie?" Lorraine popped back up in the living room.

Spencer held up his hand, showing her the cat scratch by way of an answer.

"Silly kitty!" she exclaimed, catching the cat and picking him up, holding him like a large, fluffy baby. "He didn't mean anything by it. Here, you take him for a minute."

All of a sudden, Spencer found him with an aggravated lump the size of a couch cushion dumped in his lap. Lorraine slid to her knees in front of the television and busied herself with the DVD player. She cursed at the electronic amalgam in front of her – it never responded with sufficient speed. Soon enough, the introductory menu of Holiday Inn played music on the television. Spencer had never seen the movie before. He could tell from the introduction that it was yet another musical. Lorraine hummed along with an orchestrated medley, only some of which the genius recognized.

"I take it you've never seen this before?" Lorraine asked, nestling on the couch beside him.

Feeling both bold and in need of sympathy for his scratched hand, Spencer set his arm around Lorraine's shoulders.

"No, Christmas movies weren't really a thing in our house," he told her, trying very hard not to sniff her outright – she smelled like strawberries. "Dad never liked them and Mom generally gave me documentaries on video. I think the closest to a Christmas movie was a special on holiday traditions around the world.

Lorraine looked up at him with a shine to her eyes that suggested she might cry.

"You mean… you've never even seen A Charlie Brown Christmas?" she asked in this tiny, soft voice. Spencer, looking rather baffled and getting the feeling he had just entered dangerous territory, shook his head. Lorraine's unique hazel-green eyes went almost inhumanly wide. "Oh my… _How can you go through life not seeing Snoopy at Christmas?_ It's okay… I am _so _going to fix that."

Part of Spencer wanted to call up Garcia and introduce the two of them right this minute and another part wanted to make sure they never met. Lorraine had launched into one of her strings of hyper-babble, so he just smiled and nodded. Whatever she intended to show him, he would probably end up enjoying – he knew, at least, who the Peanuts characters were. Besides, he generally liked cartoons. However, Lorraine's almost-chipmunk-speed voice stopped immediately as a thin, balding man in an overcoat got out of a taxi. He greeted a group of young boys playing harmonica and dancing on the sidewalk.

"No one will ever dance like Fred Astaire again…" Lorraine told him in a tone that was almost reverent. "Or sing like Bing Crosby…"

The movie wasn't exactly complicated – the two male protagonists having trouble with the ladies in their lives. Bing Crosby's character left show business to live on a farm and when that didn't work so well, he turned the farm into an inn. Behind that was the premise that the place would be open holidays only, so for about fifteen days out of the year. Lorraine held her breath and grabbed hard onto Spencer's arm. Jim Hardy (Bing's character) sat down at the piano to play the opening notes of "White Christmas."

Spencer could never get over how much he loved to hear his girlfriend sing. It was a bit like sitting through Wicked with her that first night. He never had been one for Christmas music (a seasonal annoyance), or musicals for that matter. For some reason, though, he didn't mind with her. The sound, the words had meaning to her. She _felt _every note. Tears even streamed down her face as she sang along to "White Christmas" with Bing Crosby. He leaned down and rested his cheek on her shining red hair.

"You know, this movie brought the song _White Christmas_ to the world," she told him, fiddling with the end of her braid. "Irving Berlin wrote all the holiday-themed songs just for this movie. The Valentine's number coming up was actually supposed to be the breakout song, but _White Christmas _stole the show!"

Spencer couldn't help smiling once again.

"You know," he echoed her. "It's not very often someone tells me something I don't know!"

Lorraine bumped him with her hip, sending Everett with a thud to the floor – the cat stalked away, looking disgusted.

"Coming from anybody but you, that would sound like a total jackass thing to say," she informed him, smiling up at him and kissing his cheek. When he smiled back, she hid her face against his neck. "Mmm…"

Spencer shifted against her, pulling her back.

"Your nose is cold!" he laughed, squeezing her shoulders.

She pouted at him and they settled back in for the rest of the movie. Fred Astaire's character had apparently discovered Bing's love interest. In order to hide her, Mr. Hardy had re-worked the number for Abraham Lincoln's birthday. Most people didn't remember that President's Day had once been the birthdays of two different presidents. Lorraine looked unfazed, but Spencer's eyes widened as Hardy painted his lady-friend's face with shoe polish. He had heard of blackface, of course, but had never actually _seen _it.

"This song is tragically catchy," remarked Lorraine.

And it really was, thought Spencer – he knew he would have problems getting it out of his head for a couple days at least. Sometimes his eidetic memory got him in trouble. Lorraine sang along with the "Abraham" number, more firmly cementing the catchiness in his brain. Hawkeye wagged his tail as he drifted over and plopped down like a rug in front of the television. Spencer still looked at the dog with narrowed eyes – how healthy was it to have a nemesis? The dog drooled on the carpet.

The genius decided, for the moment, to ignore the rug-monster. He looked down at Lorraine, who sat fixated on the television. Fred Astaire and Marjorie Reynolds danced clandestinely to "Be Careful, It's My Heart." In the end, Jim Hardy looked sour. It certainly seemed that his best friend was going to get the girl again. Lorraine tore her eyes away from the screen as the loudmouth manager yelled "Boy, are we happy!" Spencer tilted his head at her.

"Are you liking it so far?" she asked him, the hopeful tone in her voice impossible to get around.

He had never been fond of the season in general, but for some reason this campy old movie grew on him.

"Actually… I really am," he replied, holding her closer to his side. Her arm snaked around him in return. "Especially like this."


	3. Need A Little Christmas

**Disclaimer: **_**I've told y'all again and again – Criminal Minds does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form! Dr. Lorraine Quinn and her various animal buddies, on the other hand, do belong to me. If you would like to use any of them, please ask me! If you don't like OC's, why are you reading this series?**_

Ch. 3 – Need A Little Christmas

The Christmas movie marathon had gone on into the night. The last thing Spencer remembered was hearing Bing Crosby's voice again. The easygoing Father O'Malley had come to the rescue of ailing St. Mary's. But somewhere in the middle of the movie, the genius looked down to find a sleeping redhead. Lorraine had curled up basically into her dress, looking smaller than ever, and gripped his sweater tightly with one hand. Hawkeye had joined them on the couch at some point, the 200-pound behemoth halfway sleeping on her. Unable to bring himself to wake her and physically incapable of moving the gigantic dog, the great Dr. Reid passed out on the couch.

* * *

"Why is my face wet?" grumbled the genius the next morning, wiping his cheek with his hand and trying to get all that bubbly spit out of his eyes. "Ugh… Furry thing, get off!"

The black-and-white fur-heap flumped down off the couch and sat down, staring expectantly at him, drooling as usual. Next thing he knew, something small stirred at his side. He looked down and saw Lorraine twisting around, trying to get comfortable again and nowhere near awake. She cracked one liner-smeared eye open and made a grumpy noise. The eye closed again then she hid her face against Spencer's side. Gently, the profiler lifted her up, smiling as she pushed feebly against him. This went on for but a moment, and then she…

"Oh shit!" she spluttered, flailing in his arms and almost tumbling the both of them off the couch. Hawkeye drooled happily at them. "I didn't mean for- I'm so sorry!"

Spencer shielded his face as Lorraine's arm flew by it in her panic. As she tried to get up, her knee caught itself in her skirt, sending her to the floor. The giant dog didn't move other than to lick the top of her head. She gazed bemusedly up at her boyfriend, tilting her head in a manner he found incurably adorable. Smiling back at her, he reached his hand down – she let him help her up. Hawkeye dropped from a 'sit' into a 'down' and continued to drool on the rug. Looking at her in mild concern, Spencer realized something.

"Was this not supposed to happen?" he asked her, feeling a knot that smacked of dread twist up in his stomach. "… did I do something wrong?"

Lorraine had a horrified look on her face for a moment.

"No… yes… No, of course not!" she sputtered, shaking her head violently. "No, no – you didn't do anything wrong! I just… Oh god… This wasn't… I'm so sorry!"

He had zero idea why she kept apologizing – other than the mild tension in his back he saw no ill effects from a night spent on her couch. Okay… and the giant drool-stains on his pants and sweater, he hadn't seen those. For some reason, he had to smile awkwardly at the one on his sweater. Lorraine smiled back just as wryly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. As he felt the dread-knot melting away, Spencer felt a little bold again. He reached out to Lorraine and, for the first time ever, kissed his girlfriend good morning.

"Please don't apologize, then," he told her when they pulled back. Lorraine's cheeks turned Santa-hat red and she looked down at her socks. "If nothing's wrong, then you don't need to."

All of a sudden, he found himself once again very suddenly with an armful of redhead. Lorraine's small body pressed against his in a way that caused him to feel very warm, very quickly. Her hands, those nails especially, gripped his back in a way he had certainly never felt before – he liked it! After biting his lip in consideration for a second, he kissed her again. This time, he held her close, really letting himself enjoy having her against him. One of Lorraine's hands trailed up to tangle in his hair, something else he had never felt before.

Spencer had a vague clue of what was happening, and he liked it very much, but found himself unsure of how to progress. Lorraine had stood up on her toes again and nuzzled into his neck. Oh hell! She bit him! He yelped and they both pulled back, their faces brick-red. Then she pulled him down to her again, kissing him in a way he might have protested to on an earlier day. His hands now seemed to act of their own accord. One trailed up her back, causing him to blush into kissing her as he found the clasp of her bra. The other hand slid downward, but then…

There was an explosion of extremely frightening noise, causing Spencer to pull back from Lorraine as if something had burned him. Lorraine shrieked and jumped back as well. All of a sudden, he became very aware of Hawkeye's true and very large size. The giant dog had leapt to all fours and begun barking at the profiler. A ridge of fluffy hair stood up along his back and Spencer could see every tooth in the dog's huge head. He stepped back from his girlfriend very slowly, his hands held up as though he were unarmed against a suspect. The dog still looked incredibly threatening. Spencer looked from Hawkeye's teeth to Lorraine's startled face.

"Spencer, I am so sorry!" she blurted out, still looking quite nervous. "Hawkeye has never done anything like this before. I don't know what's got into him!"

Hawkeye had calmed to the point that now he just growled, the sound petering down to more of a snuffle. The hair along his spine had returned to its normal level of fluff. Both ears returned to their normal downward-floppy setting and his tail drooped as it ceased being worth the effort to keep it up. He sneezed messily and collapsed back on the floor. Lorraine and Spencer both watched the dog turn from giant furry rage-monster back into overgrown living rug. The redhead looked up at her boyfriend.

"Seriously," she piped up, a rather deadpan look on her face and frustration in her eyes. "I had no idea my dog was the Hulk."

Spencer stared blankly for a second, still more than a tiny bit shaken, but then smiled at her and tried to force a laugh.

"Don't do that!" hollered Lorraine, her voice doing that 'spike suddenly in volume' thing again. "You look psychotic!"

Okay, now he had proof. He made a mental note to ask Garcia to check up on how many files the FBI had on him personally. Lorraine, fussing about something under her breath, had stepped away to look for something. Hawkeye had gone back to sleep, snoring wetly, and Everett was nowhere to be seen. Scuffing his shoes on the floor, Spencer looked out the window and felt very foolish. He had a decent feeling of what Lorraine had been somewhat-planning. It made no sense to be annoyed with the dog – anything could have set him off… But it was still irritating. He settled for watching his girlfriend rifle through couch cushions and look under the coffee table.

"Spencer?" she asked in the tone he had come to recognize meant 'I need something,' tilting her head at him. "Can I borrow your cell phone for a second? I can't find mine. I need to call the vet about Hawk."

This sounded reasonable enough. The genius fished through his pockets and extracted his phone, handing it over. Immediately, Lorraine scooted from the room and down a hallway. Spencer heard a door shut, and then the muffled thump of another – he suspected she had holed up in her bathroom. Strange, but he supposed ladies had done stranger things. He eyed the large dog even more suspiciously, but it just snoozed on the floor, creating a drooly wet spot.

* * *

Lorraine had indeed shut herself up in her bathroom, and locked it, with Spencer's cell phone. She had heard him talk about his team and she knew who she needed to get hold of: Penelope Garcia. So, with her face lit up only by the light of the phone, she scrolled carefully through the contact list. She recognized a lot of the names already: Morgan, Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, JJ… Somehow, the thing seemed to have scrambled the order – "Garcia" was not under "G" where she belonged. But the redhead kept scrolling, on a mission, until she hit the "T" section and an entry titled "Tech Goddess." Going out on a limb – this was the only entry with a nickname – she hit the 'call' button.

The other end rang twice, and then it got picked up.

"Speak to me, boy wonder!" drawled a bright, pleasant, genial-sounding female voice. Lorraine froze for just a minute – she could almost _hear _the blonde lady's tilting head on the other end of the phone. Garcia called, "Hello? Paging Dr. Reid!"

Lorraine took a deep breath and let the idea that had been brewing in her explode at the other woman:

"This is Penelope Garcia, right? Hi! I promise I'm not crazy or anything – I'm Dr. Lorraine Quinn! Dunno if he's said anything, but I'm Spencer's girlfriend and I had this idea and I figured you would be the best person to help, and I'm sorry I stole his phone, but it was the only way to get in contact with you and he's said you're the best there is on getting sort of crazy things done. Can you call that one guy, Morgan, get Spencer out and about for a while, and meet me at the Espresso Hut in a little bit? Again, I promise I'm not like a terrorist or anything and I know you probably just put me on a watch list for using the T-word."

Garcia held her phone out at arm's length for a second, attempting to process the deluge of noise and information. She scratched her head, avoiding her curlers, and blinked almost queasily. Point the first quickly registered with her: Pretty Boy did indeed have a girlfriend. This brought her lips into an almost manic grin, also bringing the phone back to her head. She started running through the plan for Morgan in her head as she returned her attention to the cell.

"This is indeed the lovely and talented Penelope Garcia," she confirmed to the other woman. "You can call me one or the other, but seeing as you're not Sheldon Cooper, please refrain from both."

Both women laughed for a moment.

"Okay, yeah, so… can you help me?" Lorraine asked, explaining that, "Spencer's got a major case of… I dunno, Grinch syndrome."

Garcia's ears perked up even more than before.

"I am listening and I am listening _intently_," she replied, tugging at an itchy curler for a second. "What sort of idea have you brewed up, Miss Doctor Person?"

Lorraine laughed again and told Garcia, "You can call me Lorraine, you know!" and started in on her explanation.

"Okay, you know how the Grinch's heart grew three sizes when he discovered the true meaning of Christmas?"

Garcia cut in.

"Even as inescapably cute as Snoopy is, the boy does _not _have time for a Beagle with as much as he travels," she said flatly, getting quick mental images of Reid running round in gun-range hearing protection. "So how are we de-Grinchifying the boy genius?"

Again, both women laughed together.

"Well, my idea was to keep him out of his apartment for long enough," Lorraine paused for dramatic effect. "… That you and I could go in there and set up a Christmas to put Jack Skellington to shame!"

The technically-analytic genius-in-her-own-right could feel the wheels in her brain whirr into overdrive. She had visions of trees and lights and presents and her pet prodigy smiling bewilderedly. The mental view pleased her, giving her the feeling that Reid had picked a good one. She picked up a tablet off her night table and started poking away at it for Christmas deals.

"Can do!" she confirmed, continuing to tap on the tablet. "Matter of fact, consider it done! Anything for my favorite wunderkind's lady-friend, I say!"

Lorraine thanked the other woman profusely, but then hit upon a single snag.

"So, how do we get him out of his apartment for enough time for us to meet at the Espresso Hut and keep him out long enough to go shopping?" she asked. "And after that, how do we continue to keep him out so we can decorate?"

Garcia got the inkling that this might be how Obi-Wan Kenobi felt training Luke.

"Patience, dear lady!" she told Lorraine with her usual air of technological superiority. "Let me work my magic on a man named Morgan and we'll have the whole day in nothing flat! Now you get the tall skinny one out of your place so we can get to work!"

Lorraine breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Oh my God, Miss Garcia, thank you so much" she gushed – then she caught her own eye in the bathroom mirror and paused. "Wait a second… how did you know he was over at my place?"

She could _hear _the twinkle in the vibrant computer lady's eyes.

"Hon, you used his cell phone to call me," Garcia reminded Lorraine, grinning from ear to ear. "And you admitted you stole it within thirty seconds of speaking to me. That phone doesn't leave his pants, so I could assume one of two things. I can assume you've had your fun, so get rid of him and we can go caffeinate!"

Before Lorraine could sputter anything in return, the line went dead and she was left blushing at her bathroom mirror. She switched the cellular device back and forth from hand to hand for a second, considering what she had just done. Garcia, on the other hand, turned over and scrolled through her own contacts. It was really just a formality before rolling her eyes, hitting the number '3' on her speed-dial. She grumbled at the sound of the other end ringing once, then twice, three times, and almost going to voice mail. Then she heard the 'connect' tone and a deep voice.

"Lay it on me, Pretty Mama," Derek Morgan drawled into the phone…

Back in the living room, Spencer Reid stood there – exceptionally bewildered this time – staring at the sleeping dog and wondering what the hell just happened.


	4. Something's Up With Jack

**Disclaimer: **_**I own the television with Criminal Minds on it right now. I do not, however, own Criminal Minds. Not entirely sure of who does, but it's not me. I do, however, have the rights to Lorraine and any character NOT in the show. If you wish to use Lorraine or any of her buddies, ask me nicely. There is a reference in this story to my wonderful sister's Criminal Minds/House crossover. She's on here as kchan88. You should go read her fic "Variations on a Theme" to see what the teeny reference in here is all about. Don't worry, you'll still be able to understand this fic!**_

Ch. 4 – Something's Up With Jack

Spencer had no idea why he'd suddenly found himself shooed out of Lorraine's apartment with more vague something about Hawkeye and the vet. Being a profiler for even as long as he had, he could tell when someone was lying. The question was why would Lorraine lie to him? He had never detected that in her before, so what made her start now and why about something so flimsy? Even so, he went mildly along with it, making a note to figure it out later. From what Morgan had told him, putting up a fuss would just end badly for him. So, he continued on down the street, shielding himself with his coat collar. Snow had started to flurry again.

The genius barely noticed the walk/ride back to his apartment, still trying to think over what had just happened. He had gotten through his head very quickly that Lorraine was not like many women. She didn't hide terribly many things that he was reasonably aware of. Okay, there had been one time she yelled and chucked a pillow at his head when he found some old writings of hers. But, that actually proved his point. If he did something wrong, she let him know about it. Privately, he thought that things might go better for the world in general, particularly in his line of work, if more people handled things like she did. Shaking his head so that he didn't walk into the door again, he found his keys.

He couldn't say he'd had a bad time with Lorraine last night. All the movies had been pretty enjoyable, actually. Well, really he enjoyed watching Lorraine enjoy them, and boy did she… You didn't have to be a BAU genius profiler to tell that she had grown up with Christmas being the high point of her year. From everything he had been told, that was how it should be. Okay, no, it didn't make any sense to dwell on any of that. Grinding his teeth, he shook his head and clonked on into his living room, left less neat and tidy than usual.

Over on the stand, the television practically called to him, so he drifted over, flicking on the box. Chuck Jones's "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" was already a little bit in, Thurl Ravenscroft's deep voice blaring out the speakers. Spencer dropped onto the couch. Very sharply, his tailbone hit one of the wooden bits where the thing came together and he swore out loud, kicking his legs. Gripping his behind, he stood up to inspect the couch, resettling over a smidge. Feeling green and furry himself, he watched the Grinch take the decorations. All the Christmas specials – even this one – weren't his favorites. Ugh… The remote was _all the way over there_…

So he continued to watch Chuck Jones's signature animation style flick across the screen until he heard a knock at his door. Now who the dickens could it be at this time of the morning? Hmm, he thought, maybe Mrs. Rorstrom had crashed her computer again. She sometimes popped round to have him see about things like that. The knock came again. Mrs. Rorstrom normally didn't knock multiple times. Come to that, she probably wouldn't have been up at his apartment at this time of day. Spencer pulled his gun out of the end table, hid it behind his hip, and made for the door.

"Who is it?" he called, trying to keep his tone just tiny bit edgy. For good measure, he added, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

He heard good-natured laughter on the other side of the door.

"Open up, Pretty Boy!" commanded Derek Morgan's voice from outside. "It's cold out here and you're going Christmas shopping!"

Spencer rolled his eyes at the slab of wood in front of him.

"You should never have taught me contextual use of the phrase 'up yours'," he called back. "I'm going back to sleep! _You _go Christmas shopping and let me know how it goes!"

Morgan, rolling his eyes at the other side of the door, raised a hand and banged on it again.

"Come on, kid!" he yelled, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. "Having some fun that doesn't involve Iron Man isn't going to kill you!"

There was a moment of annoyed silence, Morgan blowing on his hands before reaching for his phone.

"I prefer Captain America and you know it!" Reid shouted back hotly. "And I do have fun that doesn't involve him – sometimes I read DC!"

On the phone, there was a message from Garcia asking how much time Morgan thought he could guarantee her and Lorraine. He didn't have the heart to tell his Baby Girl that he might have to actually pry the boy out like a nail. Scrunching up his brow, he messaged her back '_give me a minute._'

"Reid, do not make me go all FBI and kick this door in!" he bellowed at the door.

He got no reaction, so he leaned heavily on the door, yelling in surprise when it gave under him. Standing mildly on the other side, Spencer simply looked at his friend and coworker in something like amusement. Grumbling, the other man righted himself from his shaky footing and checked his phone again. It was 9:30 in the morning and heaven only knew how much time the ladies would need. So he thumped Reid on the shoulder in greeting and told him to get his…

"Wait a second," said Morgan, looking the younger man up and down. "Why do you look like you slept in your clothes? Everything okay, kid?"

The immediate appearance of maroon in the pale man's face told Morgan that everything was indeed fine, but of course he couldn't leave it at that.

"Is this me walking in on your personal version of the walk of shame?" he teased, watching the maroon face turn violently purple. "You and _Lorraine _have a good night last night?"

Spencer yelped in consternation.

"We watched movies!" he protested, trying to straighten out his shirt and sweater. "Let's just go, before you cause every capillary in my face to explode."

* * *

Lorraine pulled up in her favorite parking area for the Espresso Hut, parking her silver Civic and patting the steering wheel as she got out. She circled round and told the back passenger side to 'sit.' Hawkeye's furry butt hit the seat, sitting as best he could – the car was almost too small for him to be upright. Telling him "_GOOD BOY!_" in a loud, high-pitched voice, his mama opened the door. Taking the handsome leather leash, she told him to get down. The two ambled up the snowy sidewalk to the Espresso Hut. A middle-aged gent held the door open for them and the young lady behind them.

"Welcome to the Espresso Hut!" called Bobby, waving at the newcomers over the milling crowd, noticing the regular and adding, "Oh, hey Lorraine!"

She waved back and scanned the crowd, looking for someone who might be easily identified as a Penelope Garcia. Hawkeye sat down beside his human mama, drooling and grinning at everybody in the place. A little girl walked up, tugged Lorraine's skirt, and asked to pet him. Given the go-ahead, the tiny brunette with the gap-teeth gave the giant dog a hug. Her mom came and took her hand, so she told the dog "Merry Christmas!" and they left. Lorraine stood on her toes and saw a blonde lady waving amiably at her.

"Come on, Hawkeye!" the redhead tugged the large black-and-white dog through the crush of people. The place had to be at capacity or close to it, she thought. She approached the blonde at the table, smiling at her brilliantly red pea coat and the hand-knit fun-fur scarf round her neck. "You must be Garcia! I've heard so much about you!"

The technical analyst wasn't really a hand-shaker – she stood up to give Reid's girlfriend a hug.

"In the flesh and at your service!" she all but sang, jumping a bit when she felt a large, wet nose on her hand. Bending down, she took a closer look at the dog over-top of her candy-cane-framed cat-eye glasses. "And who is this handsome gentleman? Are you cheating on my boy genius already?"

Lorraine laughed and rumpled Hawkeye's ears.

"No, this guy was already in my life – had him since he was ten weeks old," she assured the other woman. Hawkeye doggy-grinned obligingly, compelling Lorraine to make use of the towel under his chin again. "Well, come on, have a seat! Let's get started!"

Garcia beamed a red-lipstick-clad smile, which Lorraine returned – the blonde approved of the redhead's own taste in lipstick.

"I like the way you think," praised the analyst. She gestured at the table, announcing, "I got us both hot chocolate – hope that's okay!"

The redhead grinned appreciatively and shoved Hawkeye's nose off the table.

"I adore hot chocolate – thank you so much!" she told Garcia, picking up her drink and smelling cinnamon. "Now… Okay, right to it: I want to construct a Christmas wonderland in Spencer's apartment. But first I need to know something – why does he have as much Christmas spirit as Mr. Bogardus?"

The blonde took off her glasses, both brightening and looking crestfallen at the exact same time.

"One, I love that movie," she started, shrugging out of her red coat to reveal a chunky-knit green sweater with Mickey Mouse in a Santa hat on it. "Two, it's a long story. Do you want the novelization or the Reader's Digest version?"

Lorraine blinked, continuing to work on her hot chocolate as Hawkeye settled down on her boots, panting. She considered for a moment… In order to really understand, she would need the whole story. For today, however, the two ladies had to work under a time crunch. Heaven only knew how long this guy Morgan could guarantee them. This Garcia seemed trustworthy – matter of fact, she had this air of all-knowingness about her. They could probably get by with the quick version as a good step forward.

"Let's go with blog-entry to start off with." She already enjoyed that she and Garcia were on so much the same wavelength that they spoke the same code. Well… okay, the same literary code – if this lady started talking in binary or something, _then _Lorraine thought she might get lost. When Garcia asked how long a blog entry, the redhead said, "Maybe five-paragraph essay format?

The tech-analyst/hacking goddess/emotional Super Glue of the BAU took a deep breath and started into the story.

"Okay, introduction: I'm sure you've gotten by now that our wunderkind is nowhere near normal," she started, to which Lorraine nodded. "Not sure how much of this is my place to tell, so I'll give you the basics. His mother is a lovely, wonderful woman, but she happens to be in an institution. Now, that is such extremely sensitive information… Breathe a word of this to him and you will be answering to me and I am not a good person to answer to. Underneath the candy-coated happy bubbly exterior, I am a tiger. Got it? Good. So anyway, holidays were not exactly a terrific thing for the boy wonder growing up."

Lorraine continued playing with Hawkeye's ears, processing this. So far, nothing terribly unusual – she saw all kinds in her work as a speech therapist. And yes, she totally understood not telling Spencer that Garcia told her any of this. Both women understood that the genius would let on when he was ready. The line '_If you tell me, I'll still act surprised_' went through her head. She nodded to let Garcia know to continue. The blonde in the Mickey Mouse sweater did so.

"First paragraph: this is also information that is not to be breathed," Garcia went on, replacing her glasses. "If you talk in your sleep, tell me now and I won't say another word."

The speech therapist shook her head, flapping her red braid about.

"Nothing but a codeine-induced stream of babble when I had my wisdom teeth out eight years ago," she informed the analyst.

Garcia took another deep breath, not really sure how to proceed with this next bit except to just forge ahead.

"Spencer is a recovering Dilaudid addict," she told Lorraine bluntly. When the redhead opened her mouth, a Christmas-tree-manicured hand went up. "And before you say anything, it wasn't his fault. We deal with the absolute sickest, most awful people you could ever possibly imagine. Hannibal Lecter, the Jigsaw killer, Mike Myers, Jason – they've got nothing on these guys. This guy Tobias Hankel abducted my precious boy and I don't know exactly what happened… If I did know, I'd have probably had his ass resurrected just so I could enact my terrible vengeance, but anyway…"

She sort of trailed off after that, trying not to spill hot chocolate all over everywhere – her voice had gone up on that last part and some people stared.

"O… kay… not doing that again," the blonde lowered her volume sheepishly, ducking down to pet the giant dog and earning a tail-wag. "But yes, paragraph two: obviously, we have a difficult, dangerous, soul-sucking job. We all have our ways of dealing with it. Me, I act in local plays, generally rock, and collect fuzzy cute things. Our boy genius reads books, watches cartoons, and plays chess with Asian kids in the park. If you ever want to make his day entirely, call someone a mewling quim within earshot of him. Anyhow, this job is not exactly forgiving of personal schedules. We know less about holidays than people in show business. FYI, skinny's favorite is Halloween if that tells you anything."

Lorraine just smiled at all of this, once again reaching into her purse for that ratty towel as Hawkeye for some reason licked her tights. True, her schedule, being in business for herself, came out a lot more flexible. However, she understood, on some level, the mental and emotional strain. People didn't think of speech therapy as being all that trying, but she had seen some touching things. Autistic kids, stroke victims, soldiers with PTSD – there were many who needed her help.

"And we have point three," Garcia piped up when she got the go-ahead from Lorraine. "Last year, we had another major incident. It's recent enough that he may actually tell you about this himself – he's getting better like that. It was almost a repeat of the Hankel incident. Lady's name was Kelly, there was a dual kidnapping, a stabbing, and now ding dong! The bitch is dead! I was a bit damaged myself over that one, so forgive me glossing over a bit? Kinda already feel a little guilty for spilling this much, but it's for a good cause…"

Fiddling with her braid, the speech therapist smiled in a different way and raised her hot chocolate to the lady in front of her. Garcia understood the gesture, returned it, and pushed Hawkeye's head out of her lap. The large dog left a wet, snout-shaped drool spot on her Minnie-Mouse-polka-dot skirt. Oh well… It'd dry in a minute or two with how much heat they had going in this place. She took one more deep breath and set to finish her story.

"In conclusion, even though they tell you never to conclude your conclusion by saying that," she exhaled all on one breath, gulping in more air after. "Doctor Spencer Reid has been through a lot in his young life. It sounds like an after-school drama to say that, but he really has. I think it was a great day when your dog nearly flung him into a fountain, actually. Okay, I know I've been talking to you for less than fifteen minutes, but I think you two are going places. He's a good guy and I can tell you're pretty darn wonderful yourself. I called Morgan just after getting off the phone with you and our time starts now!"

Garcia and Lorraine both tossed back a healthy amount of hot chocolate like Vikings in Valhalla. In the ensuing laughter, Lorraine choked magnificently and spit it all over Hawkeye.


	5. Jingle All the Way

**Disclaimer: **_**Criminal Minds still does not belong to me. I know the season 8 finale is tonight, so everybody go watch that, okay. (4/24/2013) Lorraine belongs to me, and so do her animal friends. Matter of fact, can we just assume anybody who's not specifically in the show belongs to me? You're always welcome to ask me nicely if you can use them.**_

**Author's Note: **_**I KNOW it's not the Christmas season anymore, but I just now figured out a really important point. **_

Ch. 5 – Jingle All the Way

"I absolutely hate shopping malls, just so you know," an irritated Spencer Reid told a bordering-on-annoyed Derek Morgan. "They're terribly unsafe. Just to start out, sanitation practices are lax at best. People, particularly the ones who bring children, bring every germ they've ever come in contact with. The traces of fecal matter on every surface should be enough to make you…"

Morgan smacked a hand over his face and considered cuffing the younger man about the head – it always came back to fecal matter with him!

"I don't care what the mall is going to make me do!" he grumped back, pinching the bridge of his nose. This Reid-rant had been going on for the entire duration of the Metro ride – a good ten minutes now. "_You, _on the other hand, are about to make _me _sick!"

Oh, Garcia owed him _big time _for this, thought Morgan. At first, it really hadn't seemed like that big a deal. She needed a favor – just drag the boy out of his apartment and keep him out all day. The tech analyst hadn't exactly been specific as to _why _Reid needed to stay away from his apartment. This had been cause for suspicion at first, but Morgan figured he'd hear about it eventually. That lady could only hold in a secret for so long before it came bubbling up with the rest of her personality. Okay, he could totally handle this. Reid would run out of breath support eventually…

The semi-informational rant continued as did the Metro. Spencer hadn't exactly been paying attention when Morgan mentioned which mall. At this point, he really didn't care. He suspected something going on, had no clue what it might be, and this irritated him. Derek Morgan, for his part, wondered when they were going to put Excedrin back on the shelves. He had the feeling that he would wind up with a genius-induced migraine before they even stopped for lunch. Then, the unexpected happened though: Reid stopped short in the middle of his info-vomit and stared at his friend like a lost puppy.

"It's not often I find myself with very little knowledge, even theoretical knowledge, of a subject," he started, looking guarded. "And you've… called me out… a few times for refusing to admit I don't know something."

Morgan, in part, felt sympathetic towards the younger man, but also found it very hard not to roll his eyes. He had a feeling he would be hearing this verse and chorus in some variation on and off all day. Trying to exercise something resembling patience, he half-smiled at Reid. This only seemed to confuse the genius further.

"Look, ladies can be hard to buy for, even if you're a genius," Morgan informed him, looking more genial and less like he had a burning headache. "Dude, I still have a hard time trying to pick something out for my mother sometimes."

Reid blinked, glancing furtively round the rest of the train car.

"Morgan, one of the issues here is that I'm _not _attempting to find a gift for my mother, or Garcia, or anyone else who is a blood relative or coworker," he all but whined. "It's not like… well… I've ever had reason to do this before."

"You've never bought a girlfriend anything?" Morgan asked to confirm.

Spencer's cheeks purpled once again.

"I've never had reason to!" he yelped. "Quite frankly, I've never had one long enough for gift-giving to enter into the equation!"

People on the Metro had started to stare. Spencer Reid had a tendency to talk with his hands when he got really into his subject. And with how fired up Morgan had gotten him, he had almost entered full-on flail mode. A tall, skinny guy ranting in big words and flapping his hands about tended to get looked at. For his part, Morgan decided to keep quiet for a minute. He could try to stem the tide once they actually got out into the mall.

The train ride continued.

Lorraine and Garcia had set out from the Espresso Hut in search of as much Christmas decorating apparatus as they could carry. A quick stop had seen Hawkeye back to Lorraine's living room, and then on to Lowe's. The greeter, a burly twenty-something with a scrubby beard, stared openly. Garcia rolled her eyes while Lorraine forcibly held herself back from saying something. The two ladies looked round for the inevitable explosion of Christmas lights. They were normally somewhere up front this time of year.

Sure enough, a giant inflatable Winnie-the-Pooh announced the start of the Christmas section. Every inch of five entire aisles sparkled, blinked, glittered, and winked at them. Lorraine gravitated immediately towards a display of Peanuts light-ups and inflatables. Garcia squealed openly over a quartet of penguins in Santa hats, comparing them to the penguin waiters from Mary Poppins. When Lorraine saw this, she immediately popped the box into the cart. She backtracked and added the Snoopy light-up with the dog house. The two women scuttled down the second aisle, snagging garlands and lights. Both let out a yell of joy at the exact same time at the Mickey Mouse in the Santa hat. Mickey joined Snoopy and the penguins. Okay, so this wasn't going to be the most organized Christmas surprise, but it should work!

They had rolls of white lights, multi-colored lights, and one string of purple lights that Lorraine had just absolutely fallen in love with. They'd go in the kitchen if nothing else. Garcia grabbed a wreath in the shape of a Hidden Mickey, covered in white lights and adorned with Disney characters. It would go nicely on a door or wall or something. On the next aisle over, they came to rows upon rows of artificial trees. Lorraine wrinkled her nose and Garcia shook her head – apparently, they had the same thought.

"It just isn't right when they don't smell like Christmas trees," Garcia declared.

"Or leave an unholy mess all over everything," Lorraine agreed.

Garcia whipped out a tablet from seemingly nowhere and started tapping away on it.

"Okay, I probably should have said something about this when we got here," she said, studying the tablet over her glasses. "But I cobbled together a list of what we might want to pick up!"

Lorraine perked up, struggling a little under the weight of a three-foot-tall nutcracker that didn't quite want to settle in the cart.

"Run it by me?" she asked.

Garcia tapped a few things and the tablet made a noise at her – she frowned and cursed at the thing for a second.

"If my stupid tablet would behave for two seconds," she grumped. "Now, okay, what we've got already is good. What we need is… Okay, we've got garlands, lights, light-up creatures that dance and do things, a wreath… That thing…"

She eyed the nutcracker with some nervousness.

"We need," the analyst continued, picking back up. "Ornaments, things for sticking all this stuff on the walls, probably a couple power strips. I really don't want to be responsible for shorting out the entire building – done it before. And let's see… something to put ornaments on. A tree! We need a tree!"

Lorraine perked up again, still wrestling with the nutcracker – finally, she wedged him between Snoopy and the box of penguins.

"Real tree is the only option," she declared by way of further agreement. "Where's the closest tree place from here?"

Garcia tapped away at her tablet again.

"Very!" she chirped. "Let's get this stuff out to the car and I can give you direction from there."

Lorraine turned to head back down the aisle and ran right into someone.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry, sir!" she exclaimed, helping the man pick up the armful of light bulbs – thankfully, nothing broken. "Can I help you with…"

She cut off when she realized Garcia was staring at the man in a combination of a giggle-fit and something that looked like nerves. Standing there in front of them was a rather thin brown-haired man with tired eyes. He continued gathering up his light bulbs, looking both amused and aggravated.

"Hotch, what are you doing here?" Garcia blurted out, quite red in the face and looking as though she had seen something she shouldn't have. "And… what's with all the light bulbs?"

The otherwise-stodgy-looking man sighed, running a hand through hair that looked vaguely electric.

"Jack and I were decorating," he said rather shortly, shifting his collection about in his arms. "He used a plug I didn't think about behind the couch. Blew out every light in the kitchen…"

Lorraine kindly handed him three more bulbs that had slid under a shelving unit and Garcia looked like a child seeing a teacher outside of school. Hotch, still sweating and rather put-out, smiled at the redhead. His "Spidey sense" – Jack had continued the in-joke that his dad was a superhero – started to tingle. There was definitely something he needed to remember about that redhead. However, now was not the time for it – big profiling badass or not, he had a dark kitchen to repair and an upset eight-year-old to buck up.

"Would you like a basket, sir?" a young Black man conveniently interrupted the awkward moment to ask.

Hotch took the basket with a thank-you and excused himself from the two ladies, having the feeling this day was far from over. Lorraine and Garcia said their goodbyes as well, steering their overflowing cart towards the registers. Garcia asked if Lorraine would just bring the car round, making things a bit easier with the loading. The redhead nodded affirmatively and scooted out into the cold to do so. Up above, she could see big fluffy clouds that threatened to snow like nobody's business. She started the car and pulled it up in front of the building, where Garcia and a Latino fellow steered the cart out.

Reid and Morgan got off the train with the rest of the Christmastime crush of people, something for which Derek Morgan could not have been gladder. It had started to snow again. Thankfully, it was nowhere near enough to shut down normal activity, but it did somewhat impede the flow. Both BAU agents ducked as they exited the station. A bunch of boys had started a snowball fight, causing several people to yell and jostle about in discomfort. One snowball nailed Spencer square in the back. At the younger man's squawk, Morgan fired off a snowball of his own and a warning for the clowns to make tracks. Since he used his "official voice," the boys cleared off, grumbling.

"I hate shopping," Reid informed his friend again.

Morgan rolled his eyes.

"What are you, twelve?" he groused, digging his hands deeper in his pockets and wedging himself past a lady with a mega-stroller. "I promise you, this is not hard – it's not even that painful."

Spencer felt they had gone back and forth on this subject for quite long enough, so he decided to just keep his mouth shut. Privately, he had the feeling that no matter what he got, it was going to be wrong, and that bothered him. Something in the back of his brain never exactly settled down over the prospect of being wrong – he couldn't stand it! For someone who had been told his whole life how smart he was, this whole process made him feel awfully stupid.

When they actually got to the mall, Spencer found himself more and more wanting to throw his proverbial guns down and _run._ The stores around him were frankly intimidating. Bright colors screamed at him from window-fronts in combinations he had never imagined on mannequins that seemed to stare. He had never stopped finding those things creepy. Suddenly, the rather traumatic experience of clothes-shopping with his mother screamed back to him. The shops smelled funny and the ladies working looked at him funny. Okay, he felt less bad noticing that seemed to affect Morgan too. Apparently, two grown men poking around in New York and Co. did not look right. A few of the ladies shopping shot the duo appraising looks, but did not approach.

"Morgan, this is giving me a headache already," the genius half-whined – he wanted to sprint for the safety of the GameStop across the way. "She's unconventional, so I'll get her a game or something!"

Morgan caught the genius by the back of his coat and pulled back, causing him to make a _gerk_ sound. He then insisted that, no – unconventional or not, you did _not _get your girlfriend a video game for your first Christmas together. Spencer wanted to know why not. Next second, he had to give Morgan a very stern look for steering towards Victoria's Secret. Privately, he figured he could live a very happy life never, ever setting foot inside that place. The interior, just from where he could see, consisted of nothing but eye-burning _pink_. Perhaps the Brookstone over there would have something interesting? He nodded that way and Morgan followed him over.

Well, the Brookstone _did _have interesting things, but none of them said anything resembling "first Christmas with girlfriend." Most of the little gadgets were probably for people with more money than they knew what to do with. Morgan stepped over to look at the Tempur-Pedic pillows. Those were neat, Spencer guessed, but not something he would get for a girlfriend. He moved over to a table that had three white objects on it. One had a plug-in cord and a big round white head. Curiously, he picked it up and flicked the "on" switch. A second later, he yelped and nearly dropped the thing. It had started to vibrate almost as hard as a Weed Whacker. Morgan laughed uproariously, loudly suggested _that _as a gift. The older man ended up following a mortified, _purple _Spencer Reid out of the store, still howling like a hyena.

"I am _not _getting my… girlfriend… a…. _that_!" yelled Spencer the second they were out of the store. This drew a glare from a close-by security guard, so he shrank down and hissed, "That is completely inappropriate!"

Morgan attempted to calm his laughter with only mild success.

"You _did _say she was unconventional…" he prodded the genius with every ounce of suggestiveness he could possibly muster in his tone. "And that _would _be kinda like getting her a game…"

The prodigy yelled again, looking highly embarrassed as a little girl with a large Mickey Mouse plush doll stared at him. Okay, _that _actually gave him an idea, or rather, the Disney Store bag on the girl's arm did. He pointed it out to Morgan, who quickly schooled his features and led the way.

Naturally, the Disney store was packed to the gills and every single person in there over the age of eighteen had a child with them. Morgan and Reid both very suddenly found themselves stared at like freaks. For Spencer, this wasn't much new, but Morgan looked quite uncomfortable. The super-genius half-excused, half-tripped his way to the back left corner of the store. Free of princess nightgowns and Power Rangers, it seemed a bit tamer. The shelves held things like coffee mugs and adult-sized T-shirts. Over a few steps, Spencer saw something that might be more Lorraine's style. In the middle of the shelf sat a collection of snow-globes. Stretching his hand out as if playing chess, the profiler let his hand hover over several globes in turn… It stopped, however, at one featuring a night-time scene of the Magic Kingdom. Cinderella's Castle stood proudly in the globe. He picked it up and carefully wound it.

It wasn't something he would admit to terribly many people, but Doctor Spencer Reid had always been incredibly sentimental. When he heard the pretty little melody of "When You Wish Upon A Star" his heart clenched. Taking a deep breath, he set the snow-globe back on the shelf. Gold and iridescent glitter fell upon the castle as the melody slowed down and finally stopped. He had not wound it for very long, after all. For a moment, this seemed like it might have been it, but something in the back of his mind still doubted. Blinking away a mild fog in his mind, Spencer nodded to Morgan and they left the store.

"You know, I think I'm on to something with the snow-globe idea, but I just don't know," he told his friend and coworker. To Morgan's credit, he managed not to look totally disinterested. "I know usually I get told to trust my instincts but… Wait! That's it!"

With Morgan looking quite confused, Spencer sped off in another direction with his cell phone in hand. Morgan stepped away so the boy wonder could make the call in peace. With Spencer still on the phone, Morgan's own cell phone buzzed and he retrieved it from his pocket. Surprisingly unsurprising, it was Garcia, telling him Spencer's idea was too good. The message sang the tune of "Stall for time and I'll get you back later." He trusted the technical analyst would make good with some fresh-baked brownies in the near future. So… stalling for time with the boy genius – oh, this would just be fantastic. Spencer came back, still folding up his phone, and practically sparkled with enthusiasm now. For Morgan, the expression was actually a little disconcerting.

"So what's the idea, Pretty Boy?" he asked the younger man, almost afraid of the answer at this point.

Spencer shoved his phone back in his coat pocket and gestured for Morgan to follow him past the food court. Ah! Morgan grabbed him by the arm and insisted upon a detour over to that Cajun chicken place first. Food – always a good "stall for time" ploy… As they waited in line, though, the Reid effect began to set in again and children once more started to stare.

"You know, I doubt this place bears any resemblance to actual Cajun cooking, given that I don't smell any cayenne pepper" the genius started to observe. He craned his long neck over to look at the contents of the steam bins. "And… I've got an incredibly hard time believing half of this meat is chicken."

Morgan could have cheerfully drowned himself in the fountain by the end of lunch. The food didn't _taste _that bad – standard mall food court fare with too much sauce to hide probably substandard meat. He killed another slug of fountain-spewed Cherry Coke and tried to shut his ears off from inside. Reid had moved on to the topic of over-cooking and over-seasoning. Both these practices were supposed to hide meat past its expiration date. The older man wished he could just tell the genius to put a sock in it. Garcia, however, had insisted on this whole "stalling" thing, so he would oblige. Damned if he wouldn't get them both back later, once he found out what this was all about!

Grumbling, he followed the prodigy through the jostling crowd


	6. O Christmas Tree

**Disclaimer: **_**Criminal Minds is not mine. I apologize for my idiotic confusion about the season finale in the last chapter. Final exams are soon to be upon me and my brain is very close to being chowder. Anyone not specifically in the series is probably mine. Lorraine and her critter buddies particularly are mine – you can use them if you ask me nicely!**_

**Author's Note: **_**Yes, I've been listening to Christmas music in April again… This happens sometimes.**_

Ch. 6 – O Christmas Tree

It took some careful arranging in the Civic, but Lorraine and Garcia manage to shove all their Lowe's purchases into the back seat. Now, the two of them sang along in surprising tunefulness to the Christmas music on the radio. Garcia had her tablet in front of her, reading off directions to the Christmas tree place. Held at a farmer's market just a little ways off, it shouldn't be too hard to get to. At a loud, obnoxious commercial break, Lorraine switched off the radio. As best she while driving, she turned to Garcia.

"So, I've never been tree shopping by myself," she confessed, looking not a bit embarrassed. "What kind of tree do you think Spencer would want?"

The blonde thought for a moment, tapping away at her tablet – she could wing the rest of the directions.

"Frasier fir is forever and ever the best," she declared to Lorraine's undying agreement – not scratchy and stays alive longest. "I'm all for a gigantic one!"

Lorraine practically vibrated with excitement – something told her she'd be on the same wavelength as this lady!

"Gigantic is the best kind!" she nearly squeaked. "My mom always wanted to get a little Charlie Brown tree and put white lights on it. Dad and I always outvoted her on the size, but she got her white lights every other year…"

Garcia looked vaguely sad for a moment, but the two ladies shared a laugh as they tumbled out of the Civic. The wind kicked up, bringing a tiny flurry of snow with it. Lorraine let out what was unmistakably a giggle and took off for the wall of beautiful evergreens. The sheer number of Frasier firs in all sizes was staggering. For a moment, Garcia – who normally used a sparkly pink acrylic tree – wondered how they were ever going to find just one. The redhead, visible by her trailing braid, dashed further on. Garcia could see her examining tree after tree, some for only a second and some for longer. Without a clue what the other woman might be looking for, the analyst followed at a more sedate pace. When she caught up, she found Lorraine in conversation with an elder gentleman in ancient Levi's and a flannel overcoat. He smiled as they talked, gesturing at a tree nearly ten feet tall. Lorraine's face said "This is it – without a doubt, this is the one."

"Um… Lorraine?" Garcia asked, trying to tread carefully as she approached the two in conversation. "How are we going to get that thing back to the boy wonder's apartment? Once we get it there, how do we get it _in _his apartment? After that, how do we put it up?"

Lorraine continued calmly scribbling away in her checkbook, asking the gentleman if he could do that convenient net-wrapping thing.

"Have you got anybody else we can call?" she asked, handing the check to the gent and shaking his hand. The two ladies watched as the man's two large, burly sons took the tree off its stand and sent it through the wrapper. "If not, I know we can manage it!"

The two younger men grunted as they heaved the giant tree up on top of Lorraine's car and tethered it securely there. Garcia began to wonder about the speech therapist's sanity. There was no way, in heaven or in Hell, that the two of them were getting a ten-foot tree into Spencer's apartment alone. She went through her tablet and wondered if Hotch had fixed his kitchen situation. Nodding to Lorraine, she hit the "call" button and stepped away to take care of this, hopefully quickly.

"Hotchner here," said the voice on the other end, sounding somewhat muffled – the sound of a crash caused Garcia to draw back automatically. "It's all right, Jack – I don't think that lamp _is _breakable!"

A few more shouts from the eight-year-old and Hotch was able to focus on the phone.

"Garcia, is anything wrong?" the team's head asked, juggling a few snowmen. He listened as carefully as he could to the analyst's rather rushed string of babble. Something making terrible noise in the background made her rather hard to hear. From what he could gather, though, she needed his help with something. "I understand… I'm… just a little busy at the moment and Jack…"

Another bang!

"Dad, can we go help Aunt Penelope?" the eight-year-old's voice got picked up over the cell phone.

Garcia could _hear _the wheels turning in the honcho's head. Another crash answered the boy and Hotch held back from using an exceptionally bad word. After another few loud sounds and Lorraine's muttered cursing at the Christmas tree, Garcia extracted a promise to meet at Spencer's apartment in thirty. Hotch hung up his cell phone and set the snowmen on the couch to be dealt with at a later point in time. Right now, it had just become time to wrestle Jack into coat and hat and gloves and all. The little boy had been circling the Christmas proceedings like greased lightning. Maybe a change of scenery would settle him out a little. Father and son went to the closet to start adding layers on layers.

Back at the Christmas tree farmer's market, Lorraine and Garcia squeezed their way into the Civic and started for Spencer's apartment. The decorations in the back required a little more shifting to make room for the wreath. Neither lady had been able to find a reason not to pick that up! They chatted about design ideas with Lorraine intermittently swearing at traffic. She took the Civic into the parking lot on two wheels like usual, causing Garcia to yell. The analyst checked with Morgan one more time, receiving confirmation that they would stay out. Retrieving the extra key Spencer had entrusted her with, she grabbed some bags and led the way to the boy genius's apartment. Lorraine followed with the three-foot nutcracker and as many bags as she could carry.

They almost felt like they were doing something bad as they nudged the door open and looked around. The feeling, however, did not stay long as they took a good look around the small, somewhat empty-looking apartment. Spencer had minimal furniture and the carpet remained dismally clean. It looked like it really didn't get… lived in. The space looked as if it were just something to exist in. Lorraine looked very sad for a moment, but she brightened again at the sight of all the bags Garcia up-ended on the couch. First, she set the nutcracker beside the television, like a sentinel to guard the DVD collection.

Garcia started into the garlands as Lorraine, a bit more comfortable poking around, went on the hunt for a hammer. She found the tacks, but it didn't look like the genius _owned_ anything to whack them in with! The redhead, standing precariously on a couch arm, tried in vain to push a tack in the drywall. Garcia had set up the light-up penguins close to the kitchen doorway. Once they had unloaded all the tree ornaments from bags, there wasn't much left to do! Lorraine got Snoopy set up beside the couch, sleeping on his snowy doghouse. All that was left involved hammers or putting the tree up… Again, the technical analyst came to the rescue.

"JJ!" she exclaimed when the other blonde picked up the phone, sounding perky but in a great rush. "Have you got a hammer we could borrow?"

The other end of the phone went very quiet as JJ decided how to answer that – anything that required handing Garcia a hammer made her nervous. She grabbed the Nerf-sword away from Will and insisted on Henry calming down. Turning her attention back to the phone, she asked what on earth Garcia needed a hammer for and what she meant by "we."

"Spencer's girlfriend and I are turning his apartment into 'Christmas threw up on it' because he's been such a Grinch lately," the analyst told her. Garcia could nearly _hear _the blonde's ears perk up. "Okay, so Lorraine and I can count on seeing you in twenty? Bring Will and Henry too! Hotch is stopping by because we can't lift the Christmas tree."

JJ paused again, staring at the phone.

"You got him a tree?" she asked for confirmation – then her voice brightened. "That's so sweet! Will and Henry and I would love to come help!"

A collective "Help with what?" echoed from both her boys.

"We'll be there in about twenty, if Henry's good about getting his winter gear on," JJ confirmed, nodding to Will to start on the aforementioned dressing. The boy giggled and kicked. As her husband wrangled their son, she told Garcia, "Plus, I think it's time we all meet Spencer's girlfriend!"

Garcia laughed into her tablet.

"I promise you, she's almost a match for me in awesomeness!" she chirped. "Oh, if you could stop by the cake shop and grab some cookies or something…"

The sentence wasn't even complete before JJ told her to consider it done and suggested ordering a couple of pizzas. As soon as she hung up with Garcia, she flicked through her contact list and found Prentiss's number. They both thought of Spencer as an almost-brother, so she should be included in helping. The conversation went quickly – Prentiss, of course, wanted to help! She agreed to drop by the HomeGoods and see about picking up some more decorations. Lights and all were good, but things like cookie jars and candle-sticks were more Prentiss's style of design.

Back at the profiler's apartment, quickly becoming strewn with packaging and garland-sheddings, Garcia turned to Lorraine, smiling.

"This is actually turning into quite the little Christmas party!" she exclaimed, nearly sparkling in sheer delight. "JJ's gonna bring cookies, so why don't you get on the horn for pizza! As soon as JJ gets here, Will – that's her husband – can help us help Hotch with the tree!"

Lorraine looked up from her careful arrangement of "snow" around Snoopy's doghouse – she had butchered some cotton balls to cover his plug-in. Agreeing, she flipped open her phone and called the closest Pizza Hut. Looking out of the window, she sighed as she discovered that it had started to snow in earnest. Big, puffy white flakes floated past the windows. Somehow, having grown up in the South, she had never gotten over the excitement that accompanied snow. She danced about to the Christmas 'hold-please' music. In a few seconds, she ordered two cheese pizzas, a veggie, and a couple of two-liters. Thanking the young lady on the other end, the redhead returned to the ornaments.

"Garcia?" she asked more than stated as she looked up from the sparkly gold glitter-covered orbs. The analyst struggled with a garland that looked like it wanted to eat her. "What should I get Spencer for Christmas?"

The blonde sat down heavily on the couch, still wrestling the garland.

"Do we need to go shopping again?" she asked in response, easily anticipating the 'yes' that answered her. "Well, I can tell you for sure the boy would be more than happy just to spend it with you, but I know you want to _get _him something. I hear you took him to see _Wicked _for your first date?"

Lorraine turned just as red as her hair and confirmed that to be true.

"You know, anytime he thought nobody could hear him, he wouldn't shut up about that for weeks," the tech-genius went on. "I thought he'd be the first to go screaming into the night from a musical! Whatever it is you've got, he likes – he really is very happy with you."

The redhead turned an impressive shade of magenta, but Garcia made to keep going – before she could get another word out, though, Lorraine exploded.

"A fountain pen!" she blurted out. "He's always complaining that he loses pencils all the time. You don't think he'd lose a fountain pen, do you?"

Garcia had to laugh out loud.

"Sweetie, I think if it was from you, we'd have a hard time getting him to let go of it!" she giggled, giving the garland a shove. "There's a beautiful shop that has all these fountain pens – we should go soon!"

Lorraine agreed and popped up when the knock came at the door. She bounced over to look out the peephole. The rather harried-looking man from the Lowe's and an eight-year-old boy stood on the other side. Exclaiming "Come on in!" the redhead opened the door. Jack didn't have to be told twice, bee-lining over to Garcia for a bear hug. Hotch followed a bit more slowly, excusing himself past Lorraine. She smiled brilliantly and stuck her hand out for him to shake.

"I'm Doctor Lorraine Quinn," she told him, giving him a firmer handshake than he would have expected. "I'm sure you must be Agent Hotchner!"

Hotch gave the redhead one of his rare smiles, nodding and confirming this – next moment, he gestured and Jack joined them.

"Jack, want to say hi to Doctor Quinn?" he guided his son, who already knew to shake hands – he knew by watching his dad! "She's Uncle Spencer's… special friend."

Lorraine laughed and shook the boy's hand warmly.

"You can call me Miss Lorraine, if you want, Jack," she told him – the kid had a smile just like his dad's. "I'm not a schoolteacher or anything."

The boy gave her a great big smile, featuring newly-grown-in permanent front teeth that looked a bit too large just yet.

"So, the Christmas tree," Hotch got right to business. "I would have thought you ladies would have had it up and plugged in by now."

Both ladies laughed, Garcia continuing to struggle with the garland, and gestured at the space where they had shoved furniture out of the way.

"See, Agent Hotchner," Lorraine began, trying to stifle her laughter. "We didn't get a plug-in tree. That's… kinda what all the lights are for. We got a _real _tree! It's a Frasier fir, ten-footer!"

Hotch, for once in his life, looked mildly intimidated. How in the name of heaven did these two not-large-at-all ladies _get _a ten-foot tree? Jack joined Garcia in attempting to untangle the garland. Failing that, he reached for the plastic packaging containing a silver tinsel garland. Maybe it would be more manageable than the huge faux-evergreen one! His dad, still talking to Miss Lorraine, established that they should probably wait a bit. Aunt JJ and Uncle Will would be there soon with Henry. Piping up, Jack agreed that it would be easier with his dad and Uncle Will moving the tree. Smiling again, Hotch tried not to look too pleased, beaming at his son.

Another knock on the door a few minutes later announced the arrival of the LaMontagne-Jareau family. Lorraine just hollered "Door's open!" and returned to attempting to knock in a tack with one of Jack's shoes. The boy had obligingly kicked off his Chuck Taylors to aid the 'lack of hammer' situation. Using the shoe, the three of them – Lorraine, Garcia, and Jack – had made some decent headway with the garland. Henry LaMontagne made it in first as soon as Hotch opened the door, blowing by the man to tackle Jack. JJ didn't even bother to remind him running was for outside as she followed. Will just laughed, shaking snow off his scarf.

"So where's this monster of a tree?" he asked in that accent of his. "It's gotta be somethin' if it takes half the BAU to get it up here!"

Garcia got up from the garland-draped couch, caught the keys Lorraine tossed her, and led the way to the parking garage. While JJ chased Henry around, trying to remove his soggy coat and wet boots, the guys followed the analyst. Lorraine and JJ and the boys heard a round of "Excuse me's" in the outside hallway. Prentiss shucked out of her big coat and gloves, shaking snow out of her hair and hugging both boys. Two seconds later, the dark brunette wasted no time in joining with the garland-untangling.

"You must be Agent Prentiss!" Lorraine declared in a muffled voice over the tinsel in her teeth. Awkwardly, she stuck her hand out and transferred the garland to the grip of her shoulder and chin. "I'm Doctor Lorraine Quinn. I've heard so much about you!"

The brunette turned pink about the cheeks in a way that had nothing to do with just coming in from the snow!

"You're welcome to call me Emily," she offered amiably. "I'm trying this new thing of just being an agent when I'm actually on the clock."

JJ and Garcia shared a snort of laughter and carefully stared at the decorations they were working on. Prentiss fastidiously ignored this and kindly interrupted the tug-of-war Jack and Henry had started over a knotted portion of garland. Together, the three of them worked at the knot. Both boys crowed in delight at their achievement as Prentiss handed up the newly-freed length to Lorraine. Frighteningly enough, the redhead still stood on her toes on the arm of the couch, using Jack's shoe as a hammer. After a moment or two of watching in disbelief, JJ got up to rummage through her purse. She hadn't forgotten what Garcia opened their conversation with…

"Oh! Thank you so much!" exclaimed the speech therapist, dropping the small Converse and accepting the hammer from the blonde. "This makes things so much easier!"

The garland started to go up with much less fuss with more capable hands working on it. Garcia and JJ did most of the untangling while Prentiss supervised the boys, Lorraine doing the nailing. Before too long, the boys got bored with the untangling process and went after the candy canes. Yes, it had been Lorraine's brilliant idea to grab a load of giant candy cane decorations. They were some kind of sturdy hard plastic – perfect for use as swords! JJ shouted a warning and Prentiss got up to move everything not bolted down. As long as they didn't get too carried away, the two boys should be fine. Besides, JJ now balanced on the back of Spencer's couch, trying to steady the garland. Lorraine let out a yell that she managed to turn into "God bless England!" for the sake of small ears as she whacked herself on the knuckle.

Out on the hall, a collection of voices seemed to have forgotten about the small ears entirely. Prentiss, being the only one with free hands, trying to cover at least Henry's ears – Jack knew better than to repeat those words. The eight-year-old dashed to the door and threw it as wide open as he could. Next second, his dad and Uncle Will struggled in with a dead Ent on their shoulders. Garcia followed, trying to hold up the back end of the trunk and avoiding the sticky, sap-covered end. Lorraine leapt down from the couch, dodged Jack and Henry's resumed swordplay, and went for the Lowe's bags again. She found the tree stand and realized she probably should have grabbed that first. JJ yelled at Will for his language around the boys, climbing down as well to help Lorraine with the box. Prentiss clambered up on the couch-back with the hammer to continue fighting the garland.

With a collective effort, the two men and three ladies managed to wedge the tree into the stand. Jack and Henry, with some direction, wriggled down under the tree to turn the metal rods into the trunk. Garcia emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water. She emptied that into the stand's reservoir and then went back for another, repeating this process three or four times. The boys returned to their swordfight as Hotch excused himself, stepping outside a moment. When he returned a moment later, he found the ladies going through ornaments. JJ had gone into her bag again and retrieved some Tulip paints. With newspaper spread out, she encouraged everyone to put their name on a plain ball. It had been Lorraine's idea, she explained.

"We still have all the ones back home we made when I was a kid," the redhead told everyone. She had Henry in her lap, helping him carefully write his name in Christmas red on a champagne-colored ball. "I didn't grow up with siblings, so there's one for me, my mom, my dad, and every pet we ever had."

Henry smiled up at Lorraine as she took the ornament from him to add a little tiny Christmas tree beside his name. The redhead handed the ornament to JJ – she had retrieved an egg-carton to use as a drying rack. All around Spencer's living room, the rest of the team had settled down to make their own ornaments. The tree had to settle out anyway, they reasoned. One by one, the egg-carton's little divots were filled with drying painted ornaments. Giggling, Lorraine insisted on making one that had both Hawkeye and Everett's names on it. This, she accompanied with two different-sized paw prints. When nearly everyone had added their ornaments to the carton, there came another knock at the door.

"If you're not Morgan, my boyfriend, or a psychopath, come on in!" yelled Lorraine – surprisingly, none of the team objected to this. Perhaps it was their version of a Christmas truce with the big, bad world. "Heck, come make an ornament!"

David Rossi nudged the door open, asking back "Make an ornament?"

"Doctor Lorraine Quinn – pleased to meet you!" the redhead announced herself to the Italian, catching his hand for a good shake. "And…"

"David Rossi," he cut her off before she could guess – he had a sixth sense now for when people were about to info-vomit. Looking around, he smiled at his entire team, plus a few, strewn about the profiling prodigy's living room floor. Jack had paint on his shirt and Prentiss sat adding flourishes to her name. "You know, they just did this for my brother's little twins' third grade Christmas."

Lorraine gave the agent a brilliant smile and returned to the floor.

"I was in third grade when they did this for us too!" she told him proudly. "I've always wanted to pass along the idea, but my kids have paws. Come on, Agent Rossi – you've got to make one too!"

For a moment, everyone but the boys blanched – David Rossi did NOT do things like _that! _After another second, though, the Italian shed his Gucci leather coat and set it on top of the growing pile of outerwear. To everyone's (including seemingly his) complete surprise, he joined the team on the floor. Jack handed his Uncle Dave a tube of white paint and a shiny red ball ornament.

"You put your name on it and then decorate it!" the eight-year-old instructed, carefully showing the agent his own ornament. "Miss Lorraine did a little tiny Christmas ornament on mine! She's Uncle Spencer's special friend, Dad said."

Hotch looked up from the tiny candy cane he was fastidiously drawing on his own ornament.

"Jack, it's impolite to refer to someone as 'he' or 'she' if the person is right there," he reminded the boy.

"Sorry, Miss Lorraine," Jack apologized immediately, showing her those big front teeth in an obliging smile.

The redhead smiled back, returning to the arm of the couch to fix the garland.

"Perfectly all right," she assured him. "Thank you very much for being so polite!"

Jack beamed, first at Lorraine and then at his dad – Hotch smiled back and thanked his son before returning to his candy cane. For a good long while, the team simply conversed and worked on their ornaments. Surprisingly artistic, Will had done the top of his in a complicated snowflake pattern. While that dried, Henry asked, very nicely for a four-year-old, if his could be like that too. Of course, his daddy obliged! JJ had a lovely rendition of her signature on her ornament, but kept having to wipe off the gingerbread man and start over. After a while, Garcia's cell phone began to ring. She glanced at the sparkly pink ball drying in the egg-carton and mentally deemed it perfect. Next second, she flipped open the cellular apparatus.

"Speak to me, my absolute hero of this day!" she chirped at what had to be, by this point, an irate Derek Morgan.

The team all shushed each other in attempt to hear Morgan through the phone.

"You have no idea how big you owe me, Baby Girl," grunted the toughest member of the BAU. "Your favorite boy genius is about to land me in a rubber room!"

Garcia suppressed a snort of laughter at that mental image.

"Well, put a leash on him or something and bring him on home," she instructed brightly, ignoring JJ's pointed glare. "You two both have ornaments to make, cookies to eat, and stuff to marvel at!"

Morgan decided he probably didn't even want to know what half of that meant, but he trusted his pretty Mama.

"Kid!" he shouted after hanging up with Garcia. Spencer's unruly, sandy head popped up and the genius started towards him. "Come on! I've had it with this place. Let's get you home!"

Spencer reappeared at his friend's side with a red plastic bag on his arm and his mouth shut. Glad not to have a spiel to deal with at present, Morgan led the younger man back through the mall. They made it to the Metro stop with relative ease. Throughout the trip, neither of them felt the need to say a word. As they got closer, though, Morgan began to wonder about the bag's contents. When he dashed off, the kid had said he had the perfect idea. They had been to several stores, not seeing whatever it was. Now, apparently, he had it.


	7. Holly Jolly Christmas

**Disclaimer: **_**Sorry to whoever actually owns Criminal Minds! (Hint, hint – it's not me!) I'm just borrowing a few characters to play with for a while. I'll put 'em back mostly-unharmed, promise! There are some characters – namely, anybody who's NOT on Criminal Minds – who are mine. Those, people need to ask me before they use. Don't worry, just ask nice and I'll probably say yes!**_

Ch. 7 – Holly Jolly Christmas

Spencer Reid, to Morgan's great surprise, remained almost disturbingly silent on the Metro ride back. He held the bag in his arms, which seemed to contain a reasonably-sized rectangular box, protectively close to his chest. Morgan got the feeling that he probably should not ask about the box's contents. If the genius wanted to say something at this point, he would. The older man, for all the exasperation of the day, did genuinely feel for his friend. Even with how guarded Spencer could be, he couldn't hide his trepidation. Many important moments almost certainly rode on what was in that box. It didn't take years as a profiler to see the dialogue in the younger man's eyes.

The snow from earlier in the day had increased in volume almost to full-on blizzard status, but remained somehow gentler. Reid and Morgan shuffled through the still-thick crowd up out of the Metro station. Another snowball fight had broken out among some teenage girls. A snowball sailed past the two agents but neither of them felt the need to say anything. They made their way out to the sidewalk and meandered in the direction of Spencer's apartment. Snow lay two inches deep at the edges of the walk, and the street lights illuminated the continuous fall of clumpy flakes. As they neared Reid's building, Morgan tried to hide his grin. He couldn't wait to see the genius's face when he figured out what had been going on all day.

They nodded to the front security guard and made their way over to the elevator. Spencer hit the button for floor eight, relieved when the box behaved properly this time – damn thing had been problematic for a week. If it were any other day, he would have been suspicious of Morgan's silence. Normally, the older man wouldn't give him a second's break from good-natured ribbing. Tonight, however, the boy genius's thoughts were well-occupied elsewhere, namely with the object he still held closely in his arms. For once in his life, he felt like he had done something very, very right. Morgan followed his friend off the elevator and down the hall to his front door. Abruptly, though, the younger profiler paused just as he stuck his key in the lock.

"What the…" he started quietly – he could hear activity going on inside his apartment. "Son of a…"

He quickly twisted the key and threw open the door, not sure what to expect on the other side. The sight that met his wide, startled eyes stopped him cold in his tracks. Behind him, he could practically _feel _Morgan grinning like an idiot. Lo and behold, the entirety of the BAU sat around his living room. Jack Hotchner and Henry LaMontagne whacked each other with giant candy canes. His whole apartment lay strewn with half-put-up Christmas decorations. The tree had a good foot and a half at the top bent against the ceiling. There were no ornaments _on _the tree, but a collection of them sat in an egg carton. He stood there in silence, his eyes trailing over his living room.

"Surprise?" squeaked Lorraine, looking at him over her shoulder as she knocked a tack into the wall to hang up the Hidden Mickey wreath. She let the wreath go and turned round to face him. "Happy Christmas, Spencer…"

Swallowing very hard, feeling his face go quite hot, the genius took a few shaky steps forward. He stared round again at the team he had come to think of as family. Prentiss had powdered sugar on her nose from the cookie in her hand. Rossi smiled at him, gesturing at the warm cheese pizza in the box on the rug beside him – the Italian had yet to finish his ornament. Jack and Henry clattered by, the candy-cane sword fight not about to stop for Uncle Spencer. JJ got up off the floor and excused herself past Will, who waved merrily at Reid. Hotch stood beside the light-up penguins and smiled. Garcia got down from the arm of the couch and she and Lorraine approached with caution.

"Do you like it?" asked the tech-goddess, tilting her head and causing her jingle-bell earrings to tinkle.

Spencer couldn't say anything, not knowing whether to laugh or cry or ask what the hell was going on! Lorraine stepped forward and took hold of one hand in both of hers. Immediately, his other arm wrapped around her and he pulled his girlfriend close, resting his chin on top of her head. The red bag nudged against her back. Garcia beamed at the couple as Morgan stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"Lorraine, what is this?" whispered Spencer, still holding her almost frighteningly tight to him.

He heard Lorraine sniffle, but her voice came out happy.

"This is for you," she told him, gripping his hand just as hard. "It's what Christmas is all about…"

Spencer pulled back to look around at all the people in his living room, almost as if he were seeing them for the first time.

"But how did…" he started, staring from one face to the next.

Garcia spoke up.

"Lorraine called me this morning," she explained, gesturing around at all the decorations. "She asked me to help make your apartment look like Christmas exploded!"

Almost shaking, Spencer nodded, unsure of what else to do.

"They couldn't move the tree by themselves, so they called me," Hotch put in, reaching over without looking to take the candy cane away from Jack. "I couldn't do much by myself…"

Garcia chimed in, "We also didn't have a hammer…"

"… So they called us," JJ finished for both of them. "Will and Hotch got the tree up here and we've all made ornaments for you."

Henry, who'd had his candy cane confiscated by his daddy as well, tugged on Spencer's pant leg.

"Make one too?" he suggested hopefully, holding up a rather sticky green ball that had yet to be painted. "Please?"

After a deep breath and a moment of vibrating silence from the entire room, Spencer's face broke into a brilliant smile. He set the red bag down on an end table. His brown eyes shone happily as he bent to pick up his godson and set him on one hip. Jack dug through JJ's bag to find a paint bottle that hadn't had its tip clogged up yet. Prentiss swallowed a large bite and graced her almost-brother with a sugar-coated smile. Lorraine looked over at Garcia and the two of them shared a telepathic happy dance. The profiler settled himself and Henry on the floor nearest the tree. Beaming, his girlfriend joined them, snagging a cookie from beside Prentiss.

"You want me to make one too?" Spencer asked Henry, who nodded with all the seriousness a four-year-old could. "How about you and Jack show me how?"

The eight-year old carefully picked his way over with Tulip paint bottles in hand.

"See, you put your name on it like this," he explained just like he had for Rossi, showing his Uncle Spencer the ornament he had decorated. "And you can put a little decoration on it too, if you want. Miss Lorraine did the one on mine cuz I can't draw little stuff."

Spencer looked over at his blushing girlfriend, who nodded proudly with a mouthful of Christmas cookie. He took the ornament Henry had offered and the Tulip paint from Jack – red, so it would show up on the green ball. After wiping the four-year-old residue on his trousers, he pulled off the paint's cap. Jack instructed the profiler to hold the ball very still so the paint went on even. Hotch couldn't help the goofy smile adorning his face at his son's natural leadership. With both sets of little eyes trained carefully on him, Spencer printed his name very neatly on the green ball. With that done, he asked Henry if he would please hand over the white paint. Smiling adorably, the four-year-old obliged, positively radiant when his godfather thanked him very much. After a moment's pause, Spencer turned to Lorraine.

"I can't draw either," he explained somewhat timidly, his cheeks turning scarlet. "Could you do a snowflake for me?"

Lorraine, still blushing, chomped down the rest of her cookie and wiped powdered sugar on her skirt. She took the ornament and paint from her boyfriend and held the green ball up to the light. Of course she could do a snowflake, she assured him. With Henry very kindly holding the tulip-shaped top to the paint bottle, Lorraine started on the little drawing. Spencer, Jack, and little Henry watched in something bordering on awe. The rest of the team went back to talking, decorating, and eating – Morgan veritably pounced on the pizza.

"It's beautiful," Spencer whispered almost reverently as Lorraine handed him the finished ornament. "Thank you… sweetheart."

Jack giggled and made a face – as much as he liked Miss Lorraine and Uncle Spencer, he hated _mushy stuff_.

"Now you put it on the egg thing with everybody else's," Henry told him, pointing at the carton on the counter. "It's gotta dry 'fore you put it on the tree."

Spencer thanked Henry for being so helpful and unfolded his tall, skinny frame to get up. JJ got up too, moving a couple of the first ornaments made onto a paper towel so that Spencer could set his next to Garcia's. He took a moment to simply look at all of them.

"Did you all make one?" he asked the room at large, that combination in tone of surprise and near-reverence not gone from his voice. "I see Garcia's… Henry, you did a great job of writing your name! Hotch, you made one too? Rossi? Jack, your cursive is great! And here's Prentiss…"

Morgan carefully made his way over to his friend's side.

"Looks like I need to make one too," he told the genius, pounding his shoulder fraternally a couple times. Then he turned and collared Jack, asking, "How 'bout it, kid? You seem to know what you're doing!"

Jack looked almost beside himself with pride, pulling Morgan over by the hand to pick out a ball and some paint. Spencer continued to stand beside his kitchen counter, staring at the decorated orbs. He would have reached out to touch one, but remembered the wet paint issue. The ones on the paper towel looked safe enough. He picked up JJ's, smiling at the little gingerbread man that had finally come together all right. As if on cue, the blonde appeared at his other side, plate of cookies in hand. Grinning at her, Spencer gratefully accepted one, then making his way over to the couch. Prentiss budged over to make room for him.

"You went all day and seriously had no idea what was going on?" she asked her almost-brother, helping herself to a slice of pizza and handing him one too. Spencer shook his head, so Prentiss told him, "I'm actually really surprised Morgan could keep his mouth shut!"

The man in question glared at her, but had half a slice of pizza in his mouth.

"You know," Rossi's voice caught Spencer's ear as the older man leaned forward to say across Prentiss, "You have one hell of a girlfriend."

Spencer turned scarlet again, watching Lorraine chat animatedly with Garcia.

"I… I know," he finally choked out, biting into his pizza to save himself the need for further commentary.

With Morgan and Jack occupied with the making of the final ornament, Hotch got up and made his way over to Spencer's general vicinity.

"Merry Christmas, Reid," he told the youngest team member.

He didn't need to say anything else – the two of them understood each other. Hotch helped himself to pizza as well and went over to look in on how Jack and Morgan were doing with the paint. It seemed to be coming along fine, Morgan trying to draw Snoopy. JJ and Will had Henry basically in a double headlock, attacking the child with napkins to remove pizza grease and powdered sugar. The resident super-genius of the BAU just watched everyone, absorbing all the warmth and liveliness they brought into his apartment. Lorraine plugged her iPod into the attachment on his entertainment system. After a moment of cursory scrolling, Burl Ives's "Holly Jolly Christmas" nearly shook the ceiling fan.

"You know, when I was a kid, it just wasn't Christmas until we heard this on the radio for the first time," Morgan commented, still working on his ornament. "This and the Muppet Twelve Days of Christmas…"

At that, Jack crowed with delight and Hotch, usually unshakable, visibly twitched. Garcia and Lorraine shared a moment of gleeful eye contact, silently agreeing on the soundtrack of the night. Both of them sang out with Ives, though, on the second chorus. Will finally let go of Henry and watched him take off. The four-year-old came to sit beside Jack and Morgan to watch them finish their painting. Morgan held the ball out at arm's length, displaying his little drawing of Snoopy with pride. Soon, anyone in the room who could sang along with Lorraine's Christmas playlist. Surprisingly, Rossi sat in silence and seemed content to listen to the rest of the team.

"Come on, Agent Rossi!" a smiling, pink-cheeked Lorraine encouraged. "This isn't exactly the Met, you know!"

The Italian laughed, tipping the Co-Cola in his hand back.

"If I started singing, I'd probably have to place myself under arrest for felony noise pollution," he joked, indicating the iPod with a nod of his head. "My deep, dark secret, I guess."

Morgan handed his ornament to Jack so the boy could place it carefully beside Spencer's in the egg carton.

"Rossi, you can't carry a tune?" he asked in mild surprise.

"In a bucket," Rossi answered, the snark factor returning to his voice. "But I do a mean Groucho Marx."

Everyone who understood that reference laughed, Prentiss in particular commenting that she'd have to hear that sometime.

The geniality continued almost too fast for Spencer to keep up with it. For some reason, time had slowed down to a crawl for him. He watched as Henry rubbed his eyes, yawned heavily, and finally curled up beside his Aunt Garcia. The little boy went to sleep happily wrapped in her snuggly Mickey Mouse sweater. Lorraine turned down Josh Groban's "O Holy Night." Soon, Jack, parked in front of Hotch's laptop with "A Charlie Brown Christmas" began to drowse as well. The respective parents moved to collect their offspring as others started to clean up. Will helped JJ to her feet and they tiptoed toward the couch. Prentiss excused herself to assist Morgan in stuffing empty pizza boxes into a garbage bag. Hotch carefully shut the laptop and pulled a yawning Jack to his feet.

"It's been a lovely evening," the team's leader told Spencer and Lorraine, shaking her hand again. "Jack, what do you say?"

The boy gaped another huge yawn, remembering belatedly to cover that with his hand.

"Thank you for having us over, Uncle Spencer." He spoke very clearly for being so tired. "And it was really nice to meet you, Miss Lorraine."

Both of them smiled at the eight-year-old and got up to walk him and his dad to the door. Hotch thanked them again for himself and his son, wishing them both a merry Christmas. Spencer and Lorraine waved once more before shutting the door to keep the cold out. It had not stopped snowing. Before they could return to their seats, they nearly ran into Will and JJ. The Cajun man had his son draped halfway over one shoulder. JJ just tucked the child's jacket up around him to keep him warm. She gave her almost-brother and his girlfriend a double-hug and wished them both the best Christmas ever. They returned the hugs and wishes, carefully and quietly so as not to wake the little one.

"You better send me a picture when those ornaments go up," Morgan told the boy genius, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "You know where mine goes, right?"

Spencer laughed and pointed at the bent portion of the top of the tree.

"Okay, that works too!" Morgan agreed, gesturing for Garcia to join him. "Well, we're gonna go – you two enjoy the rest of your evening…"

Lorraine giggled and Spencer yelped and turned purple at the way Morgan drew out the "O" in "enjoy."

"Good night," they both told him.

As Morgan waited by the door, Garcia shrugged back into her great big pea coat and gathered up hat, gloves, scarf, and purse. She and Morgan had just arranged a spontaneous Christmas movie "date" of their own. In a flurry of fluffy winter-wear and red lipstick, she descended on her current two favorite people. Both Spencer and Lorraine found themselves engulfed in hugs and cheek kisses as they were tickled by the fun-fur scarf.

"I want a tree picture too!" she told them. Her eyes looked suspiciously shiny, causing both the profiler and his girlfriend to hug her back. "Merry Christmas… To both of you lovelies!"

She sniffled lightly and bade them both good night. Morgan held the door open, wished them a final good night as well, and followed. Rossi and Prentiss emerged from the kitchen. They had volunteered to put away leftover pizza and Cokes so those with children could make their exits. Prentiss gave Spencer a hug that cracked his back in several places, but he appreciated it. When she pulled back, she found herself hugged back by the petite redhead. She and Lorraine held onto each other for a minute before separating.

"You take good care of him, okay?" Prentiss told her, smiling. Lorraine nodded in understanding. "It was so lovely to meet you, and I'm sure I'll see you two soon. Merry Christmas!"

She disappeared out the door, still humming something like "Angels We Have Heard on High" under her breath. Rossi shook Lorraine's hand again and expressed how glad he had been to meet her. Spencer draped a long arm around his girlfriend's shoulders, his cheeks glowing pink.

"You two seem awfully good for each other," he told them both. "I wish you the best! Merry Christmas and I'll be on my way!"

The two of them bade the Italian good night and saw him to the door.

As soon as it closed, Spencer had both his arms tightly around Lorraine again. She held onto him as well, her face pressed against his sweater. Neither one of them felt the need for words. As soon as he pulled back after a very long moment, his hand ever-so-gently found her cheek. His brown eyes appeared to darken even in the Christmas lights as they closed. Hers, those unique hazel-green eyes he loved so much, closed as well as his lips touched hers. The contact stayed soft, almost hesitant at first. He always kissed her like he wasn't sure she wanted him to. Then, though, the kiss turned urgent, his hand sliding from her cheek up into her hair, tugging her braid loose at the top.

When her hands clutched at his shoulders, he felt bold enough to request entrance with his tongue. Lorraine's hands scratched at his back, those long nails – painted silver – giving him chills. Now, they would not be disturbed by the canine version of Bruce Banner's problem. Spencer almost surprised himself with the needful moan that slipped from his throat. His girlfriend's hands had tangled in his hair, the two of them holding each other so close. Before it went any further though, Spencer – through much effort – got hold of himself. Lorraine made a quiet, near-wanton noise of her own as her boyfriend pulled back. She tilted her head in confusion, but said nothing at the look on his face.

"Lorraine…" he said softly, the one hand still in her hair and the other now carefully under her chin. He had to make himself look more at her shining eyes than her kiss-swollen lips. "I love you, Lorraine."

The redhead's eyes blew wide open, her lips still parted as she gazed at him in surprise. Spencer swallowed hard, almost certain that he had just said the exact wrong thing. Next second, though, Lorraine's red-tinted lips (she had long since worn off her lipstick) curved into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Her hands slid down from his hair to touch his cheeks so gently. Still smiling in a way that made his heart hammer on his ribs, she kissed him again.

"I love you too, Spencer," she whispered in his ear when she pulled away.

Immediately, the boy wonder of the BAU felt his knees go weak. For once, he felt totally at a loss for what to do. His wonderful, beautiful girlfriend had basically given him his first real family Christmas and it baffled him still! Casting about, his eyes landed on the couch. He took her hand and she let him lead her over to it. Lorraine's eyes lit up as they sat down – she whispered that her favorite carol had just come on. As the French song Spencer did not know played, he gently pulled Lorraine into his arms. Happily, she smiled once more and settled contentedly against his chest with her head on his shoulder. As he took it all in, Spencer found himself overcome once more. He bent forward to hold his girlfriend impossibly close.

"How can I ever thank you?" he asked into her soft red hair.

Lorraine touched his cheek and he could somehow feel her smiling still.

"You can help me put those ornaments on the tree tomorrow," she told him with a quiet suggestion of laughter in her voice.


End file.
